Smile
by PipTheOrphan
Summary: Spike won't even admit that they're friends. How is Andrew going to get him to realize that he needs him?
1. Prelude

"You were friends, weren't you?"

They were sitting in a bar in Rome together, a common event these days. He was half-listening to Andrew, more focused on his thoughts (yes, he did think, ha ha bloody ha) than on what the boy-man was saying. Half-listening was still more than what he usually gave to the boy, but considering the topic at hand, it seemed best-more respectable-to at least respond. Besides, the bloke was easy to talk to-sometimes; sometimes he found himself slipping into conversation with him, scarily easy. They were almost friends, not that he would ever admit it. They would have to be to entertain the subjects that they did.

"With the Burkle woman, I mean. You were friends?"

What a cheery subject. He took another swig of his drink, knowing that it wouldn't make him feel any better but doing it anyway, perhaps out of habit.

He also took Andrew's, something lime green that smelt fruity, and he answered.

"Yeah. Bird had a way about her. Kind. Treated me better than I probably deserved."

He didn't realize that he was smiling, but Andrew did.

"Plus, she was kind of hot."

There was a pause as Spike looked at him, thinking about what he had said, deciding whether or not Andrew's contribute was worthy of a reply, or even being annoyed at.

". . . That she was too, mate."

* * *

"Some of the girls think that Dawn has a thing for me."

Spike can't tell if Andrew's worried or proud about this; maybe a mix of both.

He thinks of Dawn's past crush on him. Of her spending time with him in his crypt, of him promising to keep watch on her, of Glory, of Joyce taking a liking to him.

"Don't even think about it."

He doesn't think that he would kill Andrew. He doesn't like the feeling the idea of them together gives him. He would probably beat the man.

But he wouldn't kill him, doesn't even think of it, and when this occurs to him later, he has to stop to consider that maybe they are friends. So why does the idea of them being together bother him? Because she still gives off the kid sister vibes?

He assumes that that's the reason.

* * *

"Can you play any instruments?"

"Did you have much schooling while you were alive?"

"What type of books did you read?"

"Were you rich?"

"Have you met anyone famous?"

"What did you do for fun?"

Andrew is in one of his chattier moods tonight, and it's wearing on his nerves. Still, he tolerates it. He almost-almost-told him that while he was human, he wrote poetry.

He wonders what's wrong with him lately.

* * *

"I think you're way cooler than Angel. I don't know what Buffy sees in him."

"It's the forehead. Drives birds crazy for some reason."

"No, I don't think that's it. . ."

"I'm telling you, it's the bloody forehead!"

"If you say so. . ."

A moment of silence.

"Your forehead is more bad-ass."

And sometimes it's Andrew who he wonders about.

He drinks to the comment anyway.

Andrew notices his smile and feels accomplished.

* * *

_"Since I'm only dead to you, I'm singin' stay away. ."_

"Uh-huh. But if that's how you felt, why did you, um, keep trying?"

Andrew looks serious; not the smug look he's had since coming to Rome, not the look he uses when trying to be an adult, but the expression that he sometimes gets when they're talking about something that he isn't sure he can get away with. Spike hasn't seen this look on his face in front of anyone else. He doesn't know if it's reserved just for him. He doesn't ask; he doesn't want his companion-because that's what he's become-to know that he's been studying him.

He can tell when he's being studied, on the other hand, and he isn't sure if he's willing to let Andrew actually get to him.

He doesn't consider his answer; this is not a night for deep conversation, at least not on his part.

"Won't ever get anywhere in life if you give up, mate."

Of course, Andrew would use that bit of advice against him.


	2. Chapter 2

It's late when they arrive in Rome. Neither of them want to talk about what had gone down in L.A.; they don't want to talk about much at all, not to each other, not to anyone at the moment. They're wore out, physically, mentally, and emotionally. They rest somewhere in between, but it doesn't help much; by the time they reach Buffy's apartment, despite healing quicker than a human would, they still look like they've had a run in with a dragon-which neither feel like explaining at the moment. They're prepared to anyway-Buffy would demand an explanation-but when they knock on the door, it's not a Slayer that answers.

"Oh, come on, this again?"

Angel doesn't bother to hide his distaste, and from the look on Andrew's face, it's obvious he feels the same way. Of course, Spike gets a hug, but that's expected.

"Buffy isn't here. She's out on a date."

And somehow, after Andrew opened the door, that was expected, too.

"You can wait if you want, but she might not be back tonight."

Spike makes himself at home, sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the table in front of him. Andrew joins him, and they play a Nintendo game together while Angel sulks in the corner with his arms crossed. He leaves after half an hour passes; Spike doesn't listen to where he says he's going, but he guesses that it's to find her. He considers joining him, but he doesn't want to look like a ponce; he'll be there when she does get back.

"So. . Want to talk about it?"

Andrew's looking at his beat up appearance, at his torn up clothes.

"Not likely."

A drawn out understanding from Andrew, something about warriors and boundaries and respect. He doesn't listen to most of it, mainly just catches the end.

"You can take a shower if-if you want."

He does.


	3. Chapter 3

He doesn't know how long he spends under the hot water. It feels like an hour, maybe more, but in reality, it could have been only ten minutes. His clothes are sitting on the toilet lid, washed, when he gets out. He puts on the shirt and trousers, leaving the coat for the moment. He lets his hair go, letting it curl instead of slicking it back. He half wonders if Andrew's going to look at him-there's no way that the bloke doesn't swing his own way-and the cockier side takes it as a compliment, but other than the ego boost, the attention would be unwanted.

The apartment is warm, but it doesn't bother him; he imagines that that's how Andrew likes to keep it.

He steps back into the living room, glad he put his shirt on. Andrew's bright blue eyes snap to him as soon as he realizes that he's in the room with him, looking him over. The kid smiles awkwardly, almost sardonically, and Spike almost asks him what he's thinking.

"Still not back?"

He knows the answer; he isn't sure why he's asking. Why bother making small talk? The shower put some of the unlife back into him, he supposes. Or maybe it's because of how excited the kid had been to see him? It had been a long time since anyone reacted that way to him, and it is refreshing and unnerving at the same time.

"She was gone three days one time."

He almost asks. Decides it's better not to. He doesn't want to know. Angel probably knows, poor sod. He almost pities him. Wonders if Andrew does.

"Want something to drink?"

He probably doesn't, he decides; Andrew never seemed to take a liking to the guy. That thought alone is enough to make him relax around him.

He sits back on the couch, picking his controller back up.

"Got everything I need right here, mate."

Andrew's sitting by him. That same expression is on his face again, but Spike doesn't see.


	4. Chapter 4

"So, uh. . . Are you and Angel getting along again?"

So much for that boundary crap. Still, Spike was never one-not since becoming a vampire-to go long without wanting to talk. Maybe being away from Angel was doing the trick, or maybe it was being away from L.A. (It was probably Angel.)

He looks at Andrew like he is an idiot.

"We never _have_ gotten along. Toleration at best is all you're going to get from us."

That was a lie.

"Oh. . . Xander says that he bets you guys were, um, a couple back in the day."

Soul or no soul, if Buffy doesn't show up soon, if the conversation keeps heading in the direction that it is, he decides that he might kill him. (Or, really, a good thrashing.)

"He's just jealous that he can't hold down a girlfriend like I could."

'Could,' Andrew catches.

He looks uncertain, knowing that he might anger his guest but continuing anyway.

"He also says that she dumped you all of the time."

Spike's actually surprised by this, though he doesn't know why; of course they talk about him. With the amount of girls they've acquired, what better do they have to do other than gossip?

"You've heard about Dru?"

That's a name he hasn't spoken in a while.

Andrew nods.

"A little bit."

Spike sits back, processing this. It had been a while since he had had anyone to actually talk about these things with. Fred would have listened, but when did the bird have time? He feels like taking advantage of the situation.

_'Might as well.'_

"She was bored a lot of the time. Not with me-don't think that. She just. . . She was impatient with me a good deal of the time that she shouldn't have been. She did have good reason to be around the end though. I was so caught up with Buffy that I didn't-She wanted attention, and I didn't give it to her. Drove her off to other men. Not even men, some of them. Things. . . She blamed me for it, too. No wonder we didn't last . . . The times before that though, all of those were her. I was patient though. Bat-stir crazy, I'm sure you know. Half the time, I didn't even-She was brilliant though. Could read time in the stars. Skill of her level was rare, even in our world. We were monsters, the both of us, but she was brilliant. Gorgeous, too."

Andrew watched Spike carefully while he was talking. Pride, nostalgia, regret, they all played across his face-but there was a smile, too. Andrew himself had to smile; he didn't think that he would have actually received an honest answer.

Of course, it was a private discussion, which they both realized; it was as close to 'open' as Spike was going to come-which is why Andrew was hesitant to speak the next words out of his mouth.

"Sounds like you miss her."

There's a moment of silence between them.

He does, but he also misses how needed and wanted she could make him feel.

"Yeah."

He unpauses the game. They don't speak for a while.


	5. Chapter 5

"So. . . want anything to eat?"

The silence between them only lasted fourty minutes or so; after the first two, Spike was surprised that Andrew could keep his mouth shut. It had been, to his surprise, Spike who broke the silence, asking how the Summers women were enjoying Europe. The conversation about the Scoobies went on for a bit, and now they were back to Andrew, insecure that he wasn't enjoying himself, asking him if he needed anything. He decided to give the lad a break (though, if asked about it, he was simply hungry-or he just wanted the bloke to shut up).

"I am feeling a bit peckish."

Andrew looked relieved, glad to be able to do something. He stood, going to the kitchen, coming back ten seconds later with a box. Going from the smell of it, it contained mushrooms and . . .

"We have some left over pizza. Is-is anchovies and mushrooms okay?"

He's had worse.

They spend the next ten minutes discussing pizza toppings.

* * *

"Jack was cool."

"Does he even count?"

"He was better than that Martha chick."

"Hey, don't knock her; she wasn't that bad to look at."

A longing sigh.

"I miss Rose."

"Well, yeah, everybody and their bloody mother misses Rose. Donna, that's where it's really at."

Andrew nods as if they've agreed on something holy.

* * *

"No. . . I think that austranouts would win. Sorry."

* * *

The time moves quicker than either of them thought that it would. They lose themselves in conversation, discussing everything from food to Paris back in the early twentieth century. It's mostly Spike talking, Andrew asking him questions. Somewhere in between the night and the morning, they put in a movie, something Andrew has watched a dozen times, something that Spike has never seen.

"Vampires do _not _act like that, not unless they've been doped up on something."

Spike's wonderings of when Buffy is going to come home still come, but they're less frequent. He's actually enjoying himself during parts of his waiting, and when he isn't, he still isn't as bored (or irritated) as he would have guessed.

It's when Angel comes back that he actually becomes irritated.


End file.
